


Perfect Cake (And Perfect Moments)

by thatpocketlint



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Diners, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Bucky Barnes Dies, Character Death, Fluff and Angst, Friends to Lovers, Getting Together, He dies and I feel remorse but I Did It, I'm Sorry, I'm not sorry for making you love Steve and Bucky's relationship first, It's gonna get really sad before it gets really happy, M/M, Seriously I'm just warning you now, Steve and Tony are end game, and then it'll probably still be a little sad, but also not sorry, diner food, irish cream cake
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-05
Updated: 2019-07-02
Packaged: 2019-09-12 10:01:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,571
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16870909
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thatpocketlint/pseuds/thatpocketlint
Summary: Tony Stark doesn't have to work at Red's Diner, but he does anyway.Bucky and Steve don't have to come in yearly for the best Irish Cream Cake in the entire city, but they do anyway.Life doesn't have to take something pure and rip part of it away. But it does anyway.





	1. Red's Irish Cream Cake

**Author's Note:**

  * For [CompanyPanda](https://archiveofourown.org/users/CompanyPanda/gifts).



Tony Stark was fifteen years old when he started working at Red’s Diner.

Tony didn’t pick up the job because he needed it. Working part time at a diner was never really in his cards, not with well established parents and a mind that would secure a future in robotics and wealth. It had been a pure need for socialization. A thirst for something that was out of his element. And above all? A suggestion from Rhodes that it wouldn’t kill him to experience a minimum wage job so that when he followed through and took over his dad’s company one day, he wouldn’t forget what it felt like to be on the bottom. Rhodey had the absolute best suggestions from the very first day they met, standing awkwardly in a dorm room and trying to figure out how to bridge the gap between roommates caused by the age, the reputation, and the uncertainty. _Lets get the grossest pizza we can find and play twenty questions until you stop looking like you’re gonna jump out of your skin everytime I talk._ It’d worked. There was no reason why the Diner wouldn’t work, too.

When he started, Tony was mostly busing tables. His foray into waiting came during the holiday season the year after when Pepper broke her leg, Bruce finally got into the kitchen, and Steven got so involved in med school that he just couldn’t pick up the hours. Tony hadn’t been nervous. He knew all the ins and outs, had sampled every bit of food on the menu, and had the charm and charisma to keep up with even the grouchy regulars who wanted _their_ favorite waitress, not some punk kid who just bordered on being too sharply dressed for this sort of restaurant.

Tony Stark was sixteen years old when he met Bucky and Steve.

It went without saying that they were gorgeous, but there was more to Tony’s instant admiration of them. There was such a softness to their interactions, something that Tony had never seen in all his life. His parents loved each other, sure. He and Howard might not always see eye to eye (they nearly never did, actually. Don’t get him started on the fight that broke out when Howard learned he was wait staff at a diner.) but he never doubted that his father loved his mother, and Maria was enamored with him despite his many, many character flaws. Tony might not understand it, but he’d always respected it. And so he’d grown up thinking that was the goal- for people to _respect_ your love. With Bucky and Steve, though? He didn’t respect it. He idolized it. It was the sort of love that you never wanted to see broken. He could listen for hours to their stories (and did, on more than one occasion) and watch the way that Steve’s eyes crinkled when Bucky called him doll, catch the subtle way that Bucky seemed to melt whenever Steve touched his hand in passing conversation. It was something good and pure, and Tony thought to himself that when he fell in love one day, that was the sort of love he wanted.

He’d never forget their first conversation. He’d never forget any of them, he was convinced, but it had been such a nice moment.

“Please, please, please tell me old man MacKinnon still makes the meanest Irish Cream Cake you ever bit into.” This one, Bucky he’d later learn, was the first to make Tony laugh. Steve was funny too, had his charm, but _Bucky_ knew how and when to drop a line just right to leave you cracking and it seemed like he never failed. The first thing Tony noticed about him was the way he wore that ragged worker style while still looking so _weirdly_ clean cut. The second thing was all that muscle. What? Tony was a teenager, and a thirsty one at that.

“He sure does,” Tony replied, cocking his hip off to the side and letting his hand rest on it. “Take it that’s what you want? Coffee to go with? Milk?” Tony was a big fan of that cake himself, though the way Bucky lit up when he confirmed it was available, you’d have thought it was the best cake in the whole damn world.

“Two slices,” Bucky confirmed. “I want the bigger one.”

“They’re gonna be the same size Buck.” That was Steve, and his eye roll seemed to have been perfected and doused with affection over what Tony could only assume was perfected through the course of a _lot_ of practice. “And if they weren’t, then _I’d_ get the bigger piece. ‘Cause I’m taller.”

“You ain’t always been ya rotten little punk,” Bucky snorted. “Ignore him, doll, I get the bigger piece. I know there’s a bigger piece. Don’t hold out. And two coffees!”

“If there’s a bigger piece, I’m gonna make you guys wrestle over it,” Tony declared, earning a laugh from both that left him feeling a little dizzy. “I can’t interest you in some dinner to go with?”

“Nah, we’re just here for the cake,” Steve explained. “Buck dragged me here to show me that there’s no better cake in the city. I was gonna have a field day with him if you guys didn’t serve it anymore.”

“Mr. MacKinnon will _never_ stop making that cake,” Tony promised.

“Good. This’s gonna be a habit, Stevie. You just wait. You’ll be beggin’ for it this time next week.”

Tony left the two to bicker about what made a good cake, although he wasn’t so sure Steve wasn’t going to be eating his words- after the cake, of course. Adrian MacKinnon was a man who’s food could literally _speak_ to you, who cooked from the heart and who’s adorable young husband had really brought perfection to the baked goods here. Tony was banking on them opening a secondary spot, a bakery, one day and he would honestly fund it if Domitus MacKinnon would just promise him free dessert for life.

It was the first time Tony met Steve and Bucky, but it was far from the last time he saw the couple.

Calling them regulars might have been too much. Bucky and Steve weren’t the sort to come into the diner once a week, if only because they didn’t really have that sort of money. Steve was nineteen, working through art school, and Bucky’d been working through different warehouses to secure experience and one day become a foreman.

Tony had asked him when he was seventeen, after seeing them three more times that year, why he stuck to jobs like that- not to be rude, but because he was curious- and Bucky had grinned and wiggled his fingers.

“I like to use my hands.”

Admittedly, he and Steve had been tipsy that time, and Tony had cracked up while he watched Steve turn red and give Bucky the Look that Tony had learned wasn’t really an angry look at all.

“You just wait, Tony,” Bucky’d told him then. “You’re gonna see us every year from now on. The day we got that cake. It’s real special, you know? Me and Stevie like to make a big deal out of little shit. You make sure you remember that one day. Always make a big deal about the little shit. Love ain’t about a perfect relationship. It’s about he perfect moments.”

Tony had a lot to think about after that. That was a heavy dose of advice. Steve and Bucky, they seemed like they knew all about the perfect moments. Tony could only hope one day he’d know what Bucky meant.

When Tony Stark was eighteen, he could have left Red’s. He could have left sooner than that, really, but he liked making himself available for shifts during the holiday season to help out. And if he made absolutely positive that he always had hours on the day that Steve and Bucky were meant to come in for their cake, Rhodey was the only one to call him out on it. Once. Tony had put so much salt in his apple pie afterwards the Rhodes solemnly swore to never comment on it again (and Domitus MacKinnon, trying not to cackle, had warned him about ever ruining a perfectly good slice of pie again). He couldn’t exactly pick a favorite interaction with the two, but Tony _did_ know he didn’t want to miss out on any just because of something silly like.. Preparing to take over a multi-million dollar company. Who had time for that?

At age twenty, Tony did get involved with the company. Of course he did. But he made sure he had a clear spot in his schedule for those two (and the MacKinnon’s! It was all for them! So they didn’t have to hire new help! Totally!) and at twenty years old, Tony was standing right by their usual table (what do you _mean_ he’d been safe guarding it all night? Blasphemy, Pep, honestly.) and offering them both that usual charming smile.

“Lemme guess- you want a spinach smoothie-” Tony was well practiced, so he _didn’t_ laugh at the scathing, scandalous look that Bucky gave him- “And _you_ want… Gosh, Steve, I’m gonna say you want to eat _both_ slices of the cake. Yeah?”

“Where’s Adrian?” Bucky growled, playful and smooth. “I tell Stevie every year I’m not gonna put up with your shit, punk, and then every year you get away with it.”

“Oh please, my shit is exactly why you come here,” Tony retorted. “And the cake. I’ll admit, I’m pretty sure it’s mostly the cake. Don’t worry, I’ve actually already got your order in. Second I saw you two pull up I knew what you’d want. Bring us any new art this year, Steve?”

It was comfortable. Steve, Bucky, Tony, chatting like Tony wasn’t in the middle of a shift. Never once did he feel like he should take for granted the warmth they afforded him, the way that they invited him into their night for conversation and laughter and soft teasing. Tony would like to call them his friends, if he didn’t only see them a few times a year and know nothing more about them than the fact that they had a romance of epic novel proportions. It was good. It was wholesome.

Tony never realized how often he associated them with the word _good._

“I have a piece out in the car,” Steve replied. “I honestly kinda thought you were jokin’ when you offered to buy one last time we were in here. You know you don’t hafta do that, right Tony?”

“Are you _kidding_ me, Steven?” Tony asked, placing a hand over his chest in mock astonishment. “First of all, I know I don’t _hafta_ do anything.” Tony loved to tease them on their occasional slang and accents. Bucky’s was thicker and raw, in a way that Tony honestly felt wasn’t real the first time. Who the fuck had a Brooklyn accent that thick these days, anyway? “Secondly I love art. And one day you’re gonna be big and famous, and I’m gonna be able to go on the news and say, ‘Hey! I know that guy! Look at this cool painting he did for me!’”

“You already go on the news,” Bucky pointed out. “Don’t think you need Stevie’s art for that. But you’re damn right to wanna buy some, ‘cause it’s beautiful like him.”

“Exactly,” Tony agreed triumphantly. “Now, you two gonna keep distracting me or am I free to go get your coffee and your cake?”

“Thanks, Tony,” Steve said with a little nod. “You’re our favorite an’ all, but you really _can’t_ just stop and take our order, can you?” Tony gave him a scandalized look at the accusation, before letting out a little laugh and shrugging his shoulders. Well, you got me. After that, it was pretty much his usual night. Tony got their order, he let them eat in peace. He watched, occasionally, letting himself get swept up in the love in their eyes and the way that Steve laughed at Bucky’s jokes. Steve, who’d laughed at a lot of things in this diner, but seemed to have a _particular_ laugh for Bucky. Bucky, who looked like he probably could have had a resting bitch face for the history books, gazing at Steve with the softest smile on his lips (and just a little bit of icing that Tony was _positive_ he knew about and was waiting for Steve to clear) and talking so quietly and just for Steve that Tony could barely see his lips move.

And of course Tony helped his customers. He moved from table  to table. He dropped a dollar in the jukebox and played a few songs, kept conversation light at his tables. Tony had definitely associated Steve and Bucky with the word _good_ , but he realized that night that he’d also learned that the diner was the true definition.

When he got off that night, he sent Rhodes a text to tell him. _You gotta publish a book about life advice, Rhodes, because I’d be a miserable drone without you. Love you honeybear._

Tony honestly could have done it forever. He’d already gone into talks with the MacKinnon’s about how one day he’d really like to partner with them, provide some security to the diner, make sure it was always a staple in their city. The bakery wasn’t happening, _yet_ , but he could see the glint in Domitus’ eye when he talked about it. Tony was _always_ going to be a man in the robotics industry, but the diner was his second love. He was invested. At twenty two years old, Tony Stark had personally paid for a visual update and become part owner of a business that he’d once thought of as a way to pass the time and maybe meet some folks. Tony realized that, despite it being _just a diner_ , he’d found a love nearly as pure as the one Bucky and Steve had. He’d made perfect moments here. It was good.

Tony Stark was twenty three years old when, on November 19th, Steve and Bucky never showed up for their slice of cake. And everything was, most definitely, _not good._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I started writing this as a piece about my own personal characters, and I loved it, and I was in pure anguish about it. And then I wanted people to read this story, and I wanted you to feel my anguish, and so I wrote my first Avengers fic in like. A year? Who knows. It is not my intention to hurt you by killing Bucky, but someone had to die. It IS my intention to make you love his and Steve's relationship and then cripple your emotions. I just want you to be aware, you know. Bucky dies. He's not coming back. 
> 
> But he was so, so happy while he was alive. I hope that makes it a little better.


	2. Outside Looking In

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony Stark doesn't have to hope that Steve and Bucky come back, but he does anyway.
> 
> Steve doesn't have to finally show up to answer questions and create even more, but he does anyway.

"No matter how hard you stare at that door, they aren't coming through it." Tony hadn't realized he'd been staring, zoned out as the clock ticked by and the night crept towards closing time. Rhodey was right there with him as he leaned on the counter, which was probably lazy and unbecoming of a partial business owner but what was the point of buying part of the diner if he wasn't allowed to mope a little when and where he wanted to? Not that Tony would admit he was moping, because that would have required him to fess up to what he was moping about. And there was just no way that after three years he was still waiting for Steve and Bucky to come in and get their anniversary cake, because that was ridiculous.

"Who?" Right, Tony, because Rhodey can't see through that falsely innocent tone. Sometimes it was easier to pretend that Rhodes wasn't nearly as smart as he was, or that he didn't know Tony better than Tony knew himself. "I'm just tired, the door was there, must've faded off somewhere for a minute. I'm not expecting anyone sugar bear."

Tony looked over just as Rhodey was shaking his head, his eyes fond but exhausted. Being best friends with Tony Stark was a full time job; or at least, Tony insisted it was. He'd tried to pay him for it before. He'd been really drunk. Story of his life right? "You can lie to yourself all you want tonight, Tones. C'mon, man, why don't we start cleaning up the place and get ready to close? We can take a slice of that cake back to your place and argue about what to watch on Netflix."

His stomach curled. He didn't want a slice of that damn cake. Don't get him wrong, it was delicious. Adrian really did know how to make the perfect Irish Cream Cake you'd ever sink your teeth into, had it down to a science even. Tony could build and tinker and science his way through a lot in life, but you put him in front of the oven with Adrian while the man gave him in depth step by step instructions and there was always some sort of disaster to follow. He didn't understand it. He'd tried after the second year that Steve and Bucky had come in to give them a slice of his own, and he could still remember the exaggerated face Bucky'd made when he took a bite.

"We play pranks here now punk?" Bucky asked, tongue poking between his teeth like he was trying to scrape the taste away. Steve was laughing, taking a bite of it and shaking his head right alongside his boyfriend, and Tony's jaw was hanging open because it couldn't be that bad. "Where'd ya get this one, the dumpster?"

"Hey!" Tony puffed up, hands going onto the table as he leaned in, one finger pointed playfully at Bucky. "How dare you! This was a labor of love. I don't bake-"

"Oh we can tell," Steve added helpfully, and Tony just threw up his hands and rolled his eyes, stormed off to the kitchen to get them an authentic piece made by Adrian. It was a fond memory, one that he liked to sink into. Tony loved those little moments. It was his favorite thing about working at Red's.

Perfect moments.

"Tones?" It wasn't Steve or Bucky; it was Rhodey, reeling him back in as gently as he could. Tony blinked rapidly, turning to look at him before sighing quietly and pulling a rag from his shoulder to start wiping down the counter. Rhodey was... he was right, it was time to close up and move on. Maybe next year he shouldn't come out here on this night. Maybe he should take that night off, specifically, and move on from this weird fixation he had on Steve and Bucky returning. There were a million and one possibilities, ones he'd gone over more times than he should have.

His favorite was the idea that Steve got into one of the art schools he thought about constantly but refused to try for. Bucky had been threatening to send his portfolio in, and while he didn't think Bucky would ever go through with it who knew? Maybe Buck had finally decided that Steve was pining hard enough and he deserved something good. They'd moved off for him to go to college, and they thought fondly about their dates at the diner, but they'd moved on to bigger and better things. Or Bucky finally got a better job, one that didn't demand such long hours and hard labor and they'd gotten them a house with a picket fence. They had a dog, and a cat, because they couldn't decide which between the two of them. Steve painted pictures of them all for the walls. Bucky asleep on the couch with the cat tucked under his arm. The dog in the window. The cat rolling around with a toy. Those pictures were beautiful pieces of life and a family they'd built together, and they would have them for as long as they had those perfect memories.

There were the bad possibilities, too, but Tony had done everything he could to push them away even as they became more and more frequent. What could have happened to the two? What the fuck would Steve and Bucky ever deserve in this world besides something good?

"Tony." Rhodey's voice was firm this time. He'd done it again, hadn't he? Tony offered his best friend a tired smile and a short nod. There was no sense lingering on it any longer.

"Sorry, I'm with you, sourpatch," Tony said by way of the worst apology ever, but Rhodey slapped his arm and Tony gave him an offended look. What? What could possibly be wrong with his usual half-assed apology?

"No, Tones, look," the man urged, and pointed out the large front window of the diner. Tony stopped cleaning the counter immediately. For a moment, he wasn't sure what he was looking at. Because that looked like Steve, an awful lot like Steve, with a little more facial hair and some slack in his posture. He was standing out there on the sidewalk, staring ahead down the street with his hands in his pockets. There was something off about it. Tony's slowly forming smile faded away.

"He's... waiting for Bucky," Tony suggested. "Buck's parking the car." It wasn't like Rhodey had asked, or like Rhodey really cared to ask (not that Rhodes didn't care about their customers, but he wasn't as attached to these two as Tony tried not to be) and they both knew that Tony was saying it out loud for himself. He waited a solid minute, just staring ahead at Steve even as the man continued to look down the street, stock still.

"That's a long time to park a car," Rhodey offered gently, putting a hand up on Tony's shoulder. Tony's world was spiraling. If Steve wasn't waiting for Bucky, Bucky wasn't here. Which wasn't right. You can't just get a slice of Red's cake without Bucky, or without Steve. It wasn't- Where was Bucky? What was taking so long?

"I'm gonna-" Tony's mouth was suddenly dry, and he tossed the rag back over his shoulder. Steve had pulled his hands from his pockets, was fiddling with his left. "Maybe he thinks we're closed," Tony said, as though Steve had given a single glance inside to check. Maybe he had, maybe Tony hadn't noticed. The sign said open, but it was empty aside from him and Rhodey at the counter. Steve was polite. He was probably trying to decide if it would be rude to walk in and ask for a booth, with Bucky of course, who was parking the car. "I'll be right back." He moved around the counter in a bit of a daze, and just as he did Steve started to turn. Like he was going to walk off. Like he couldn't take the steps towards the door, and Tony's pace picked up.

The door opened with all the grace you could expect from a diner door; the bell chimed loudly from the force of him pressing his body into it, like if Tony was a second later he'd wind up missing Steve even though he was moving one step at a time. "Steve!" he called out, and watched the man freeze in his place and lift his shoulders. He didn't turn for a moment, and Tony left the safety of the door to come up and get in front of him, looking at that face. There was nothing good there. The usual spark to his eyes wasn't there. His hair wasn't styled the way it usually was, the shadow of facial hair he'd been able to note from inside under the dull light of the street lamp and the diner's sign was much less sculpted than he had thought. It wasn't thick- a light smattering that said he'd given up on it a few days ago.

"Hey Tony." There was something thick about Steve's tone, and the small smile he offered wasn't like any Tony had ever seen on his face. Dread filled the pit of his stomach, but he didn't know how to ask. Something awful had happened, he was sure of that. But Tony didn't know what. He couldn't imagine a horrible break up, but for a moment he contemplated if he should give that praying thing a shot. The alternatives were awful.

"We're open," Tony said, instead of asking. It was lame and stupid and he was pretty sure at this point that Steve knew they were open, but he had to- He didn't know what else to say. "You can't just stand out front and not come in. It's bad for business if I let you do that, and I'm already in hot water for very accidentally telling a customer to fuck off last week."

That at least got an attempt at a laugh, one of Steve's hands coming back out of his pockets to rub the back of his neck. "So it hasn't changed," Steve breathed, a mixture of relief and dread to his tone. "It's been- Well. I figured it wouldn't be the same place."

"I mean I've done some updates," Tony admitted. "But if you think ol' Adrian'd ever let me change the place enough that it was something brand new, you weren't paying attention all the times you've been here." Quiet fell between them, comfortable and yet so strained. Tony wanted to ask questions. Steve looked like maybe he wanted to talk, but didn't know how. That was fine. There was nothing that Adrian's cooking couldn't solve, right? "Please come inside Steve," Tony suggested quietly. "It's been a while. I've been practicing how to be piss poor at serving, you'll love the attitude. It's perfected, I swear. The MacKinnon's would be pissed if I closed up before I let a customer in."

Steve hesitated, looking like he didn't know how to answer the request. Tony assumed he'd come here for a reason. Whatever had happened, maybe Steve needed to do this tonight. Even if he was afraid to step through the door, for whatever reason, Tony was here to help with that. "Alright, Tony, I'll come in. But only because Rhodey looks like he really wants to leave, and I've never gotten over him spilling my milkshake all over the table." It had been such a riot at the time; Steve wasn't angry, Steve never seemed to be angry. His tone wasn't nearly as light as he was trying to it to be, but Tony would never call him out on it.

Tony was just so happy to see him. Even if it wasn't in the happiest of circumstances, and even if he wasn't sure why.

Tony held the door for Steve, following him inside and after a moment of thought flipping over the closed sign. They didn't need any more guests tonight. He would have absolutely followed through on closing up if Steve hadn't been the one to show up. Tony didn't have to be the genius that he was to tell that Steve really needed this, for whatever reason. He watched him freeze in his place and seem to consider as he stared at the booth he usually sat in. With Bucky. After a moment Steve finally made his decision, wandering over to the booth and taking a seat. Tony looked to Rhodey, who wore sympathy on his face as he set to making Steve's glass of Pepsi. Steve had once confided that he didn't often drink soda, but their trips to the diner were meant to be a special treat, so why not?

"You eating anything tonight, stranger?" Tony asked, as though he didn't know his usual order. He'd moved to stand next to Steve's table after giving him a moment to sit on his own, but now he was here to keep Steve from caving in on himself. He looked like he might at any moment. He didn't just want to bring his usual though. He wasn't sure if cake was something that Steve would want tonight. He might not even be hungry. Tony might be sitting here with a customer after hours who didn't want a bite or anything more than a sip of soda. That was alright. Steve looked like he needed some perfect moments.

"I don't know, I didn't get a menu," Steve replied. Tony rolled his eyes and handed one over. "Good to see the service is still terrible. You're lucky the MacKinnon's are too nice to fire you."

"You know exactly what's on that menu," Tony countered. "You probably know it better than I do, actually. I should really have it memorized by now, but that would be hard work and I'm not here for that. I don't even work here anymore, not really."

Steve had been looking at the menu, but he glanced up at that. He didn't look surprised. Tony had always talked about the other things he thought about doing. "You look like you're working?"

"Yeah well..." Tony paused, realizing that it would be strange to tell Steve that he specifically came in on this night to see if Steve and Bucky would come through. Three years was a strange amount of time to fixate on people who he didn't know outside of his job. His old job. "You know, busy time of year. I'm part owner, it's only right that I show up when they call."

"Oh," Steve replied, going back to the menu. "Well, it's nice to see you, Tony. I'm glad they needed help tonight." Rhodey dropped the soda onto the table, patting Steve on the shoulder. "I think I need a few more minutes, if that's alright?"

"Of course man, Tony's got actual owner things to do anyway," Rhodey said, cupping his hand on the back of Tony's neck and drawing him away by the shirt. They didn't stop behind the counter; they made it into the kitchen, and Tony sagged against the wall where Steve couldn't see. "He say anything?" Rhodey asked, voice gentle. He knew that Tony was torn up about this, and Tony hated himself for it. He had no right to be, but watching Steve hurt after every laugh he'd shared with him and Bucky, the stories, the smiles... It was difficult, to say the very least.

"No, no, he hasn't said anything," Tony replied. "I dunno what that means. I saw a ring. He has a ring, Rhodes, they went off and got married. And he's wearing it. And you know, maybe Steve did something bad and Bucky left, because if Steve left Bucky I don't think he'd be wearing the ring, but I can't imagine Steve doing anything wrong to any-"

Rhodey gripped his shoulders, looking him in the eyes. "Tones. C'mon man, don't do this to yourself. I'm sure Steve'll tell you if he wants to. You shouldn't ask, though."

"I'm not an idiot!" Tony paused, considering. He lifted his hands in surrender at the very clear look that Rhodes gave him. Fuck Rhodey for knowing him better than anyone in the world, honestly. "Okay I can be very, very stupid with people sometimes but even I'm not that bad." The look just kept going. "I'm not!"

"Alright. I'm trusting you to handle this one." Tony wasn't sure that look really conveyed trust, but at least it wasn't as severe now. Tony eyed the cake on the nearby counter top, rubbing his hands over his apron as they felt suddenly sweaty. Maybe the cake would be too much, or maybe it would be just right. Hadn't he just said to Rhodey that he wasn't stupid? That he could handle this? Well, he hadn't promised, and Rhodes should know to make him promise so that there would at least be less of a chance of him totally fucking up.

Tony wandered back out to find Steve staring at the spot where Bucky would usually sit. It was difficult to watch. The entire thing was hard, and Tony wasn't even the one who had theoretically lost someone. Steve had his hands on the menu, but it was closed, and Tony hummed before making up his mind. He walked over and sat down on the edge of the seat next to Steve, startling him and bumping him with his hip until he got the message and moved over. Steve didn't smile, but he looked a little less lost, and Tony would take that.

"So," Tony said quietly. "I take if you're not eating cake tonight?"

Steve shook his head, tried to crack a smile and failed. "I wanted to be here tonight," he admitted, and Tony didn't dare interrupt. "I wanted to be here a lot of nights. I wanted things to feel normal. Everyone keeps telling me that I have to just do things to feel... But I don't think I would have come in if you hadn't come outside."

"That's the feeling I got too," Tony replied. "It's why I walked out when I did. You looked like you might want to, standing there and all, but then you turned around and I got this feeling like you wouldn't come back again if I didn't stop you." Silence fell between them for a moment, before Tony finally decided he could ask. "Where's Bucky?" It was innocent. Steve could answer it a number of ways. He could just say not here and Tony would let it drop.

Instead Steve took a long breath, dragging his hands onto the table and touching the ring that Tony hadn't gotten a good look at yet. It was simple, exactly like Tony would expect. A silver band, but in the light he could see a streak of gold that seemingly ran through the center all the way around. It was hard not to stare.

Steve wasn't looking at him as he said, "He died three years ago, the day before out anniversary."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone! Sorry for the delays, my life has been super hectic! I think part of the problem too is I knew how I wanted to end this, and how I wanted to start it, but I stalled out on what should happen in the middle. I'm getting there, though, I have more ideas and I'm ready to write!
> 
> This chapter is kind of heavy, but I think that's kind of the mood from here on in. I promise a happy ending, but there's a lot of development and whatnot that's got to happen, y'know? Steve's going through a LOT right now, and I plan to get into all of that in the next chapter! I'm actually thinking it's going to be his POV but I'm not positive yet.


End file.
